Under Attack

“I think I’m going to be sick.”

 

 

I kicked open the car door and leaned out, the familiar comfort of San Francisco’s moist night air rushing over me in waves. I stared down at the concrete until the toes of Will’s sneakers came into view. I gradually rose up and Will was hunched next to me, a compassionate grin on his face.

 

“You okay?”

 

“I don’t understand.” Will just shrugged and my emotional pendulum swung back to frustration. “How can I be the Vessel? How could I be the Vessel and not know it? I can’t even eat sushi without getting a little queasy; how could I possibly have the souls of millions of people inside me? I mean, wouldn’t that be a little obvious? Wouldn’t it make me—schizophrenic or something?”

 

Will patted my leg and I was surprised at how comforting the gesture was. “It’s going to be okay, Sophie. Knowing you’re the Vessel isn’t going to change anything. You’ve probably always been this way.”

 

“Probably? So, there is a chance that I was normal once? And I got, what—infected—with the Vessel?”

 

“I really don’t think it works that way.”

 

“This is nuts. I’m the Vessel and—and—you’re the guardian.”

 

Will grinned his cute, boyish grin and did a little hand flourish that really pissed me off.

 

“You’re my guardian? No offense, Will, but has anyone ever told you that you’re crap at your job?”

 

Will’s smile dropped and he pressed his lips into a thin line, the annoyance obvious. “Thanks for the confidence boost, love, but you don’t exactly make my job easy. Getting into desperate situations, living with a vampire, running off to demon bars ...”

 

I did a mental head slap. “That’s right! You were in Heaven that night.”

 

“That night Arsenal was down two-oh. It wasn’t heaven for me.”

 

A thunderbolt of anger roiled through me. “I get pummeled by a pixie in black leather because you were watching a soccer game?”

 

Will sucked in his cheeks. “It’s called football, love.”

 

“Great. Half the immortal world wants to kill me and my guardian is watching”—Will’s nostrils flared and I continued smugly—“soccer.”

 

He pushed himself up to a standing position and started to mumble to himself, his grumbling just loud enough for me to hear.

 

“The past guardians had to watch over things like mayonnaise jars and dinosaur bones. I come up to bat and they stash the ol’ Holy Roller in a gorgeous bird with a fallen angel for a boyfriend.”

 

“He’s not my boyfriend,” I whispered.

 

Slowly, I felt all the air leave the car. My chest felt heavy with the effort to breathe and I sunk back into the bucket seat.

 

Had Alex always known?

 

My throat went dry and when I tried to swallow; I was wracked with a choking cough that turned into uncontrollable sobs. Through my tears, I saw Will looking at me, his face contorted in concern and confusion. I felt his hand on my shoulder, patting softly, if awkwardly.

 

“Do you think—do you think Alex knew the whole time?”

 

Will raked a hand through his hair; when he brought the same hand down to rest on his hip I stiffened. Will’s gaze followed mine and he jammed his fisted hand in his jeans pocket. I sprang up and grabbed his wrist, glaring at his hand.

 

“What is this?”

 

Will shook my hand off and crossed his arms in front of his chest, both hands shoved in his armpits.

 

“I got a little scratch, so what?”

 

“That’s not a scratch, it’s a bite mark.” I pulled his hand out again, examined the little purple half-moon between his thumb and forefinger, and remembered the attack after the Giants game. “And it’s mine. It was you.”

 

Will shook me off and started to walk around the car, dangling his keys as he went. “So, back to your apartment then?”

 

I put my hands on my hips. “I’m not going anywhere with you. You tried to kill us.”

 

“Get in the car, love.”

 

Will’s sexy English accent was quickly losing its appeal. I crossed my arms. “No.”

 

“Get in the car.”

 

“Not until you tell me why you were trying to kill us.”

 

“I wasn’t trying to kill you. I was trying to kill him.” He sunk into the driver’s seat and leaned toward me. “Now get in the car, love.”

 

I jumped into the passenger seat and turned down the radio that had inexplicably gone up to car-filling volume.

 

“You attacked us.”

 

“No, I attacked him. I was doing my job. I was saving you.”

 

I gaped. “From a few moments of normalcy?”

 

“You are the Vessel of Souls. You were alone with a fallen angel. Do the math.” He stepped hard on the gas and I flopped back into my seat.

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Sixteen